


Cheat Codes

by thilesluna



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Emotional Manipulation, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6896476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "That one time Lil J gets kidnapped and thinks that nobody is gonna come for him. That he'll just go down like this but even then he doesn't tell them a damn thing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Jerevin in chapter 3!)

His hands hurt. That’s strangely the first thing that comes to Jeremy’s head when he wakes up. He remembers hearing a loud yell in his comm and then seeing lights moving _too fast_  toward his bike and then nothing. His head started to get clearer and he begins to realize it’s not _just_ his hands that feel raw. His whole body feels like it’s been through a meat grinder. He lifts his head to look around and notices for the first time that he’s blindfolded.

“I’m glad you’re awake finally,” a voice says. God _damnit_. “We need to talk.”

Jeremy pushes down his panic, thinking about all times Gavin’s told him about being kidnapped--which happens to him probably too often even though sometimes it’s on purpose--and does his best to _not_  act like the new kid in the crew. “The last time I heard that,” he groans--breathing is hard in the way that makes him think he’s got a cracked or at least bruised rib-- “My girlfriend was breaking up with me to go out with my sister.”

The voice chuckles in a way that sounds less amused and more menacing. “You’ve picked up a lot in the _short_  time you’ve been with Ramsey.”

“Was that a crack at my height?” Jeremy asks, putting on a faux-affronted voice. 

“More a description of your work history. We actually didn’t mean to grab you,” the man says. “Though you were the Golden Boy, someone Ramsey would actually care to get back.” Jeremy swallows, glad for the first time that he’s blindfolded. Gavin always said to give them no emotions when they’ve got you tied up in a basement somewhere. Jeremy thinks that if the guy could see his eyes, he’d know exactly what he was thinking.

Jeremy is the _replacement_. He’s there to make up for the hole Ray left and he’s in the crew, but he’s not _in_  the crew. He’s not one of the originals. He’s just a dumb kid that works for them. He doesn’t generally go out after heists because he doesn’t want to impose on their friendship. He’s a rebound crew member and he’s not important enough to come after. He’s not _worth_  coming after.

“Sorry to disappoint. Though to be fair, I’m not the one who asked you to run me off the road,” he says with a laugh. It sounds forced even to his own ears. 

“The boss convinced me not to just kill you,” the man replies. “I thought it would be more efficient but he seems to think that even though we probably can’t get Ramsey to pay for you, you could be persuaded to talk.”

“Does that mean you’ll be getting the knives and blades out?” Jeremy asks. “I mean, I work with the Vagabond so I’m not that worried about those any more.”

“I thought we’d first just try asking,” comes the voice. “I doubt they tell you much besides ‘Drive here, shoot this, steal those’, but you might have _something_  to share that’s worth my while and will buy you a quick, clean execution instead of wasting my time.”

There’s a cold calculation to this man’s voice. Jeremy has seen Ryan do this same thing, and maybe he was less scared because he knows Ryan and has seen him wearing ugly-ass New Balance sneakers, but he’s got a terrible, sick feeling in his stomach that he’s _fucked_. “What is it you want, exactly?”

“Pass codes, addresses of safe houses, team weaknesses. The usual.”

Jeremy sighs. “I’ll give you the pass codes. Will you let me go?”

“Now, now, Dooley. You’re not really in a position to be bargaining. But we’ll see if we can make you a little more comfortable for your short stay.”

So he talks, and the man leaves, and Jeremy smiles for a moment.

\---

A day later--at least Jeremy thinks that’s how long it is-- the man comes storming into the room. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t figure out that the codes you gave us were videogame _cheat codes_?”

Jeremy startles away, the blindfold gone this time. “You didn’t say what pass codes you wanted,” he says with a shrug.

The man, a tall thin guy with a chinstrap and a scar running along the bridge of his nose, takes a step toward Jerermy, his face contorted with anger for a split second. He regains his composure quickly, but Jeremy takes solace in the fact that he got to him. “That was a mistake,” he says, reaching for the table and coming away with a cattle prod.

Jeremy doesn’t know how much later it is but when the man leaves, he finally goes slack against the chair and lets out a sob. He’s never been in so much pain in his life. The asshole alternated between electricity, blades, and just general beating the shit out of Jeremy’s stomach and chest. He thinks his arms are bleeding from where his body strained against the ropes. He knows his legs are bleeding even though he can’t feel the sting of the blades any more. His whole body is exhausted.

He hasn’t said a god _damn_  word since his crack about the pass codes. He’s screamed his throat raw, but he hasn’t said a word about the crew. Jeremy is stubborn. He’s a damn Irish boy from Boston, he was born stubborn and born loyal. He doesn’t know how much longer his body will hold out, but he’s never going to give up his crew.

\---

There are burns on his chest.

They’re from defib pads.

He died, he thinks.

At least technically.

When they sit him up in his chair, they don’t bother to restrain him. They know he can’t move much anyway. He thinks its only been a few days, but for all he knows, he’s been here for weeks. The man--Jeremy has been calling him Pauly D because of his dumb chinstrap and spiky hair--killed him by accident. He must not have understood how far he pushed Jeremy’s body because his heart _stopped_. 

He still hasn’t said a word.

Pauly D keeps saying that the crew has given up on him, if they were ever even looking in the first place. He’s trying that as a new angle, Jeremy thinks. Mental warfare instead of physical. 

 _Jokes on you, buddy_ , Jeremy thinks. _I already made my peace with that_.

They leave him alone in the room, hooked up to the IV they’ve been using to keep him hydrated and he thinks about trying to stand. The last time he did though, his legs gave out and he reopened a gash on his hand breaking his fall. Not that he isn’t like 90% open wounds at this point. They spray this stuff on them. Like, liquid bandaids to stave off infection but it doesn’t stop them from hurting.

So he sits. He tries to catalogue the hurts and the injuries but he gives up when he realizes there are too many. He waits.

He doesn’t realize what he’s waiting for--so far it’s been for the thugs to come back in an torture him again--until he hears it.

_Thudthudthudthudthudthudthud_

That’s a minigun. 

Michael.

Jeremy starts to cry.

He’s still crying when Jack finds him. When Ryan picks him up carefully. When Geoff swears violently under his breath. When Michael swears violently not-so-under-his-breath and puts another hundred rounds into the already dead bodies.

But when Gavin gasps, a tiny shocked noise, Jeremy speaks for the first time in what feels like lifetimes. “Do I look that bad?” his voice is rough. Scratchy with disuse and raw, like sandpaper. It hurts.

“Nah Lil J,” Gavin says, trying for cheerful and missing by a mile. “Still got your boyish good looks.”

“Sweet,” Jeremy says. He’s fading as Ryan carries him to the chopper. He can feel himself slipping, into sleep or unconsciousness, he’s not sure. He just knows he feels safe.

“Though you weren’t comin’,” he mumbles against Ryan’s jacket. “Didn’t think I was worth the trip.”

He can’t see their faces and so he misses the horrified looks they shoot each other. It’s Geoff who speaks. “’Course we were comin’, J. You’re our crew. That means ‘family’, asshole.”

Jeremy doesn’t reply, too far gone in the warmth and the rumble of the helicopter, but he smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Jeremy being captured isn't pretty. (also from a Tumblr prompt)

It gets to a point where Jeremy has had enough. After they get him out, he spends so fucking long in the hospital and then even longer recovering at the base and in physical therapy and even longer than that, trying to fucking sort out his own shit. You know, the things that have him waking up with nightmares every night.

The worst part of it all? The fucking crew walking on eggshells around him. He can’t stomach the looks Geoff gives him, the way Jack checks on him constantly, how Ryan will show up in his doorway with a snack or book he thinks will take Jeremy’s mind off it. Michael and Gavin are the worst though, because they constantly try to “cheer him up”. They bring him funny movies to watch, they move the video game set up into his room when he’s less mobile. They’re always cracking jokes and making references to things from before the basement and before Jeremy got tortured and _died_.

He’s had enough.

He looks down at his plate and his fucking steak has been cut for him. “I need you guys to fucking stop,” he says, quiet in a way but with enough of an edge that the whole table stops talking at once.

“What?” Michael asks. Jeremy almost feels bad because they all look genuinely confused and he doesn’t want to hurt them but he _can’t_  do this any more.

“Stop trying to cheer me up. Stop taking care of me so much. Stop treating me like a fucking _child_ ,” he says—god, it comes out so bitter sounding but it’s been building for months and he’s been stuck in the damn penthouse while they go on jobs. “I know—I’m not ready to be back. I’m not _better_  yet,” he goes on. “But I can’t—There’s nothing any of you can do to _fix_  me.”

Gavin flinches like Jeremy took a swing at him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finds his voice. “But we just want you to be happy again—”

Jeremy slams his hand down on the table and they all jump, even Ryan. “Well I fucking can’t, Gavin. You need to let me broken for a while. There’s—a lot of stuff happened to me and I know—” he takes a deep breath and looks at all of them in turn. “I know how I was before but right now? I can’t be the happy boy all the time. You have—I need _time_.”

Jeremy stands then, as best as he can still using the cane Caleb gave him for support. He sees Geoff’s hand twitch, an aborted movement to help him and he feels relief when Geoff doesn’t actually move. They all need time, he thinks. But they’ll get there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one gets better overnight. Jeremy thinks he's better, but Gavin's not so sure.

It takes a long, _long_ time for Geoff to let Jeremy go out on missions again. It takes _too_ long for Jeremy’s body to heal in the first place–burns, cuts, abrasions, concussion, broken bones, contusions–and even when Caleb gives the all clear, Geoff keeps him out of their heists. It pisses Jeremy off, Gavin can tell. When he can’t go out on the missions, he goes to the gym. He works his body nearly to the point of exhaustion every night before he disappears into his room.

Ryan tries to talk to him, Michael too, but they get no where and Jeremy is so _stubborn_ about it all. Gavin can tell that Geoff is worried and that Jack is on edge, stuck between wanting to protect Jeremy and to see him happy again.

Geoff finally relents, sends Jeremy on a relatively easy task with Ryan to collect payment from one of their bookies. Two hours later has Jeremy slamming through the front door, a worried Ryan at his heels and Geoff jumping up from his seat at the table. Gavin is in the kitchen and he watches everything unfold.

“Jeremy, what–?”

Jeremy pushes past Geoff, or at least tries to but Geoff grabs his arm. “I just want to go to my room.”

Ryan stands awkwardly by the door, fidgeting with his mask in his hands. “I didn’t know–I’m sorry, Jeremy.”

“Someone needs to tell me what the fuck is going on,” Geoff says. It’s not panicked, but low and calm, like he’s talking to a frightened child. 

“Geoff, don’t,” Jeremy says through clenched teeth. He rips his arm from Geoff’s fingers, takes a step backward.

“Don’t what, Jeremy? Try and figure out what the hell is going on? Why it looks like Ryan stepped on a puppy’s tail?”

Jeremy’s eyebrows furrow and he looks like he’s not sure exactly what to say. “No it’s just–” he opens his arms wide and waves them, gesturing to the whole room. “–everyone is treating me like–like I’m made of glass. I hate that goddamn voice you use Geoff. The one that’s all placating and soft. I hate feeling like, like I’m _broken_.” He turns then, stalks off to his room and slams the door shut.

“What the fuck happened, Ryan?” Geoff asks, turning on his heel.

Ryan flinches back a little. “I don’t know, honestly. I–there was a lacky for the bookie there and he came at us on our way out and I just–I used my taser, to be quick and get us out of there.” Geoff takes the rubber mask carefully from Ryan’s fingers where they’re still pulling and twisting it. His hands are shaking. Gavin crosses into the living room then, leans up against Ryan’s side. He knows that Ryan takes all of their safety as his top concern, knows that when he fucks something up he takes it so hard and sometimes it takes him out of his head a little bit.

“You’re alright,” Gavin says. He leans his head on Ryan’s shoulder.

“We’re not mad,” Geoff says. “We just wanna know what happened.”

Ryan takes a deep breath. “I tased the guy and Jeremy’s face kind of went blank and then he—he kind of wrenched himself away from me and ran outside. When I got there, he was throwing up in the alley. I don’t—I think it was the taser? I didn’t think—he had so many burn marks, Geoff. I—“

“Okay, okay,” Geoff sighs, throws his arm over Ryan’s shoulder and leads him to the couch. They sit together like that for a long time, speaking quietly enough that Gavin can’t hear them. They stay there until Jack and Michael get back and Jack takes Ryan’s hand to lead him to her room while Gavin and Geoff fill Michael in. He slams around the kitchen, muttering about killing that bastard all over again if he had the chance. Gavin can’t help agreeing.

—

Gavin can’t sleep. It’s not a new thing so he just sighs as he rolls from bed to get a beer from the fridge in the kitchen. As he makes his way down the hall, he hears an odd noise coming from Jeremy’s room. He stops at the door, ear pressed to the wood to listen. There’s muffled rustling. He’s about to continue on when he hears a pained cry. Gavin doesn’t think, just throws the door open and hurries to Jeremy’s bed.

The sheets are tangled at his feet and his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. Jeremy’s brow is furrowed, his mouth set in a thin line, like he’s in pain and just as Gavin gets to his bedside, he lets out another sound, this one accompanied by “Please— _stop!_ ” When Gavin touches his arm, he knows enough to get the fuck out of the way incase Jeremy wakes up swinging.

He doesn’t.

Jeremy’s eyes fly open but the second he sees Gavin, he starts to cry. He curls in on himself, shuddering sobs wracking his body. He mutters, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over and Gavin’s heart _breaks_.

He climbs into bed with Jeremy, wraps his body around Jeremy’s back, his arms over his chest, holding his shaking hands with his own. “Jeremy,” he says softly. “It’s alright, J. I’m here. I gotcha.” Jeremy continues to shake, but his sobbing subsides. “Hey, hey, calm down, they can’t hurt you anymore,” Gavin whispers.

Jeremy freezes. “A-Are you sure, Gav?”

“What do you mean?”

Jeremy wiggles until Gavin lets go enough to let him turn in his arms so they’re facing each other. “Are you s-sure they can’t hurt me?”

“Jeremy—“

“It feels a lot like they’re still hurting me. Every night.” Jeremy’s voice softens. “Have you ever died before, Gavin?”

Gavin blinks. “Died?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so,” Gavin says carefully.

Jeremy closes his eyes. “I _died_ , Gav. They killed me.”

“Jeremy what—“

“Look,” Jeremy says. He pulls up his shirt and Gavin’s eyes rake over all the scars, the marks, the places where Caleb had to stitch Jeremy back together after fixing _so much_ internal damage.

“Lil J,” Gavin whispers carefully, unsure of how to say what he’s thinking. He settles on: “There’s so—I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

Jeremy takes Gavin’s hand, presses it to a dark patch on his chest and then slides it over to another on his ribs. “They had to shock me back,” he says. “I was _dead_ Gavin. I was dead and I can’t stop thinking I’m still dead every time I close my eyes.”

He says it as a statement of fact, the surface of his words is so calm that it unnerves Gavin. He leans in, presses their foreheads together. “You’re not dead, Jeremy. I’m breathing, you’re breathing. You’re here with me and you’re _alive_.”

Jeremy shudders and closes his eyes. They lay like that for a long time, but Gavin knows Jeremy hasn’t fallen asleep. Even so, when Jeremy speaks again, he jumps.

“It was the sound, or maybe the smell.”

Gavin squeezes Jeremy’s upper arm. “Of the taser.”

Jeremy nods. “Is Ryan okay?”

“He’s fine. Just afraid he did something to hurt you,” Gavin says quietly.

In the very dim light of the bedroom, Gavin sees Jeremy smile. “You guys came for me. You saved me.”

Gavin kisses Jeremy’s forehead, a barely there brush of his lips. “We always will, Lil J. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT FAHC JEREMY


End file.
